It had been two months since the bhumipujan of Indraprastha, and the city now stood as one of the most beautiful and influential kingdoms of Aryavarta. Trade flourished, with fertile lands yielding bountiful harvests, making Indraprastha a hub of commerce. Kingdoms from far and wide sought alliances for their own benefit. Under Yudhishthir’s rule, the administrative structure was carefully crafted—on the advice of Pitamah Bhishm and Mahamantri Vidur, Nisha was appointed Mahamantri, while Draupadi, with her keen intellect, took charge of the financial matters.

The kingdom thrived. Poverty and unemployment were nonexistent, and with Yudhishthir and Nisha’s strict yet flexible administration, crime had no place in the city. The people of all varnas lived harmoniously, and peace reigned over Indraprastha.

One evening, as the sky blazed in hues of orange, Nisha sat in the royal gardens, absently running her fingers over the sharp edge of her sword. Nakul and Sahadev had left for Hastinapur to deliver the monthly report of Indraprastha’s development—or, as Nisha fondly thought, to make Duryodhan jealous. A smirk played on her lips at the thought.

Just then, a brilliant light shone from her left. Startled, she turned, and there stood a magnificent figure clad in an orange dhoti, a jap mala in one hand and a veena in the other. The divine glow surrounding him was unmistakable. Quickly, Nisha stood, adjusting her saree, then stepped forward, folding her hands and bowing down to touch his feet.

“Pranam, Rishivar,” she greeted reverently. (Salutations, O great sage.)

The saint smiled warmly and chanted, “Narayan, Narayan.”

Nisha’s brows lifted in realization—this was none other than Devarishi Narad.

He smiled at her expression and said, “Saubhagyavati bhav.” (May you be blessed with fortune.)

Nisha smiled and said, “Aapka yahaan is samay aana bada hi akasmik tha, Devarishi.” (Your arrival at this time is quite unexpected, O divine sage.)

Devarishi Narad chuckled, “Rishiyon ka aagaman akasmik hi hota hai, putri.” (A sage’s arrival is always unexpected, my child.)

Nisha nodded and gestured toward the palace. “Acha, acha... Aaiye, Devarishi Narad, hamare mahal ka shobha badhaiye.” (Ah, I see... Please come, O divine sage, and grace our palace with your presence.)

Narad Muni gave her an amused glance and said, “Rishi-Muni shobha badhane ke liye nahi hote, putri.” (Sages are not meant to add grandeur, my child.)

Realizing her mistake, Nisha shut her eyes tightly. She was used to addressing royals, not divine beings. Quickly, she joined her hands again. “Kshama, Devarishi.” (Forgive me, O divine sage.)

Narad nodded and started walking. Nisha followed him toward the royal corridors, where they encountered Arjun. Seeing them, Arjun’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Nisha, noticing his expression, stepped forward and introduced, “Bharata Arjun, ye hain Devarishi Narad. Indraprastha bhraman ke liye aaye hain.” (Brother Arjun, this is Devarishi Narad. He has come to visit Indraprastha.)

Arjun instinctively folded his hands, and Devarishi blessed him. Together, they proceeded toward the royal hall, where Bheem, Yudhishthir, and Draupadi were seated.

As soon as Yudhishthir saw Narad Muni, he immediately rose from his seat, offering it to the sage. “Baithiye, Devarishi,” he said respectfully. (Please have a seat, O divine sage.)

Nisha silently observed. So this is how divine beings should be treated, she mused. She mentally noted to ensure proper arrangements in the future—after all, there had been no seat for the sage in the garden.

Standing beside Yudhishthir, Draupadi watched Narad with curiosity. Understanding the unspoken command in Narad’s gaze, Yudhishthir turned to Draupadi and said, “Draupadi, jao, Devarishi Narad ke charan dhone ke liye paani le kar aao.” (Draupadi, go bring water to wash the sage’s feet.)

As Draupadi left, Nisha narrowed her eyes slightly. Daal mein kuch toh kaala hai... (Something is fishy...)

Narad Muni smirked, as if reading her thoughts, and said, “Ye dekh ke atyant khushi hui ki tumhara rajya itna sukhi aur samridh hai.” (It pleases me greatly to see that your kingdom is so prosperous and flourishing.)

Then, his voice grew serious. “Mera yahaan aane ka kaaran hai tumhare sukh, Rajan.” (The reason for my arrival is your happiness, O King.)

His gaze turned to Yudhishthir, Bheem, and Arjun. “Tum teen bhai Panchali ko baant chuke ho. Main nahi chahta ki Panchali ke wajah se tum teeno mein phut pade.” (You three brothers have divided Panchali among yourselves. I do not wish for her to become the cause of division between you.)

He paused, his words sinking in. “Bohot se atoot rishte ek sundar nari ke liye toot jaate hain, aur tumhare beech yadi ye hua to tumhare rishte ke saath-saath ye Indraprastha bhi toot jayegi.” (Many unbreakable bonds have been shattered because of a beautiful woman, and if such a thing happens among you, not only will your relationships crumble, but Indraprastha itself will fall.)

A heavy silence followed. Nisha decided to stay out of this conversation, letting Yudhishthir respond.

After a moment, Yudhishthir said, “Humne iss baat ki charcha ki thi, Devarishi, aur hum iss vichar par pahunche ki hum bhaiyon mein se ek hi Panchali ke saath ek varsh rahega.” (We have already discussed this, O divine sage, and we have decided that each of us will stay with Panchali for a year in turns.)

Narad Muni smirked. “Par iska to koi thos niyam nahi hai, aur ye niyam bhang karne ka koi dand na hone par ye kabhi bhi kisi ke dwara bhi bhang ho sakta hai.” (But there is no solid rule enforcing it, and without any punishment for breaking it, anyone can violate it at any time.)

Bheem clenched his fists, seething, but before he could erupt, Nisha placed a calming hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Bharata Bheem, krodh mein na aayein. Ye yahan yahi niyam banane aaye hain.” (Brother Bheem, do not be angered. He is here to set these rules.)

Bheem leaned down and murmured back, “Niyam nahi, Nisha. Ye humein alag karne aaye hain.” (Not rules, Nisha. He has come to separate us.)

Nisha sighed. “Ye ek chunauti hai, Bhaiya Bheem. Aapko iska samna karna hoga. Krodh mein mat aayein, Devarishi ko achha nahi lagega. Shaant ho jaiye.” (This is a challenge, Brother Bheem. You must face it. Do not let anger control you; it will not please the sage. Stay calm.)

Bheem exhaled sharply but nodded, forcing himself to relax.

After further discussion, it was decided that if any brother disturbed another’s time with Draupadi, he would be exiled for fourteen years. Draupadi accepted the rule.

Nisha knew for certain now—this rule would send Arjun into exile in the future.

As Narad Muni prepared to leave, everyone bent down to touch his feet. When Nisha did, he blessed her, then turned to Yudhishthir and said, “Tumne apna Mahamantri sahi chuna hai, Yudhishthir.” (You have chosen your Grand Minister wisely, Yudhishthir.)

Everyone smiled, but something about his tone made Nisha pause. It did not sound like a compliment. She frowned slightly but let it go.

------------ After 6 months

The air in Indraprastha was unusually heavy, weighed down by an unspoken sorrow. All the Pandavas, along with Nisha, Draupadi, and Kunti, sat in the royal chamber, their expressions grim. Arjun, ever the upholder of dharma, had committed an act that now demanded atonement.

It had all happened so suddenly. While supervising the harvest and production, Arjun had heard a desperate cry for help. Rushing toward the commotion, he found a group of thieves stealing cows from a Brahmin’s house. Without a moment’s hesitation, he had sprinted back to the palace to fetch his bow. In his urgency, he had unknowingly entered Draupadi’s chamber, where Yudhishthir was also present.

The law had been broken. The consequence—twelve years of exile.

Yudhishthir, ever the eldest and wisest, tried to console him. “Arjun, this was an accident. You did not enter with any ill intent. You only wished to protect dharma.”

But Arjun, steadfast in his principles, shook his head. “No, Bharata. A law was made, and I have broken it. I must atone for my mistake.”

A heavy silence filled the room. No one knew what to say. Just then, Nisha decided to lighten the mood, her voice laced with an encouraging resolve.

“Bharata Arjun, do you remember? Keshav once advised you to strengthen Indraprastha’s alliances so that our independent flag may one day fly high. But for this, you must go alone, ensuring no king sees it as a threat—especially King Shakuni of Gandhar.”

(Brother Arjun, do you remember? Keshav had suggested that you strengthen Indraprastha’s alliances so that we may one day raise an independent flag. But this task must be done alone so that no other king, especially King Shakuni, sees it as a threat.)

Her words sparked contemplation in the room. Sahadev nodded in agreement.

“Nisha sahi keh rahi hai, jyesth bharata. Kadachit Indraprastha ko samrajya banane ka samay agaya hai.”

(Nisha is right, elder brother. Perhaps the time has come for Indraprastha to become an empire.)

Yudhishthir, after a moment of thought, nodded. “If Arjun must leave, let his exile not go in vain. Let it be a journey that fortifies Indraprastha’s strength.”

With the decision made, preparations began for Arjun’s departure. The next morning, clad in the simple attire of a wandering ascetic, he stood at the palace gates, ready to leave behind the comforts of his home.

Just then, an eagle swooped down from the sky, landing gracefully on Nakul’s shoulder. The bird carried a scroll, tied securely to its leg. Nakul untied it and, glancing at the seal, announced,

“Ye sandesh toh Dwarka se aya hai.”

(This message has come from Dwarka.)

Yudhishthir turned to him. “What does it say?”

Nakul unfolded the letter and read aloud,

“Bharata Arjun ko vanvas me shesh dino main Dwarka ane ka nimantran diya hai Vasudev ne.”

(Brother Arjun has been invited to visit Dwarka in the later days of his exile by Vasudev.)

A murmur passed through the group. It seemed Keshav had foreseen this exile and had already laid out a path for Arjun. With this final message, Arjun departed, his silhouette growing smaller as he walked away from Indraprastha.

Nisha turned to Draupadi. She had been silent all this while, her eyes red, her lips pressed into a thin line as if holding back a flood of emotions. But Nisha could see the pain in them, the quiet agony of watching Arjun leave.

She stepped closer and embraced her, whispering softly,

“Maat roiye, didi. Bhaiya ko kuch nahi hoga.”

(Don’t cry, sister. Brother will be safe.)

Draupadi let her tears fall, no longer able to hold them back. “Pata nahi wah kese rahenge van main…”

(I don’t know how he will survive in the forest…)

Nisha sighed, offering a reassuring smile.

“Ab tak Pandavon ne mahal se jyada van main jeevan bitaye hain, didi. Bharata Arjun rehlenge. Aap chinta na kare. Ab aap Indraprasth ki Maharani hain, aap rajya ki chinta kijiye.”

(The Pandavas have spent more time in the forest than in the palace, sister. Brother Arjun will manage. Don’t worry. You are now the queen of Indraprastha—focus on the kingdom.)

Draupadi nodded, wiping her tears. But deep down, Nisha knew—her sister-in-law’s pain was far from over. If only she knew what lay ahead... that before Arjun’s return, he would have married not one, but three princesses.

And when that moment will come, Draupadi would never be the same again.

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